


Klexos

by agentwhalesong



Series: Words of Obscure Sorrows [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, MSR, Post-Episode: s11e03 Plus One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentwhalesong/pseuds/agentwhalesong
Summary: "They had an incredible ability to communicate with their eyes, but they seriously needed to improve their verbal communication. Maybe it was time to change that."Set somewhere between Plus One and Ghouli.





	Klexos

The streetlight that entered the bedroom lit portions of her body and he made a mental note to get up at some point and close the drapes so that they could sleep properly. Not now, though. He wanted to enjoy the rare moment of having her cuddled up against him, her head on his chest as they both lay on their sides, breathing slowly and almost succumbing to sleep.

He moved one of his hands up and down her bare back, just to see if she was still awake. As he predicted, she nuzzled into his chest and smiled.

“I missed this, Mulder.” She admitted.

She had never been good with sharing her feelings, but all those years together had made her trust him more with them, throwing bits of information here and there sometimes. He was used to that and, quite frankly, he loved the element of surprise. He never knew when she was going to say something worthy of making his heart stop for a few seconds and it always filled him with joy.

He smiled against her silky hair and kissed the top of her head slowly, lingering there for a moment.

Just a week ago, they had slept together again after a long time, while (and after) solving that creepy doppelgangers case. In one of these encounters, they had discussed a little about life and love, in their own weird language. They always spoke between the lines, and they perfected that language that only they could understand along the years.

It was not like her at all to be insecure about things like appearance and age, but he also understood that maybe it was the side of her she was successful in hiding from everyone along the years, including him. So, he comforted her, assured her he was still going to be there for her until the end of her days and she assured him the same. In Mulder and Scully language that was like marriage vows, in a way. They talked about the idea of having more kids and, although he was glad they had had that conversation, he started wondering why they had never discussed it before that night, having lived together for so long. He knew they didn’t discuss it for a while because William was kind of taboo. They would mention him sometimes, but the subject always ended up with one of them, or both, crying, so they avoided it. But they should have discussed that possibility long ago. Maybe after they knew he was free of all charges, another kid would have been nice. Instead, she just hid from him that she wanted to have another child, and, in turn, he never told her he would have loved to be the father of her second child and be there for her all the way through. It still haunted him that he didn’t get a chance to be a father to William the way he was supposed to, and he was like her in that respect, since he never told her about his feelings regarding their son.

They had an incredible ability to communicate with their eyes, but they seriously needed to improve their verbal communication. Maybe it was time to change that.

“Do you think he knows who I am?” He asked softly, his voice a little muffled by her hair.

He felt her eyelashes flutter against his chest as she blinked several times while she thought of an answer. She didn’t have to ask who this ‘he’ he was referring to was, she just knew.

“Maybe. I don’t know… I mean, technically he only saw you when he was born and children that young can’t recognize anyone. Not enough to have a memory of them, anyway.”

She took her head away from his chest and scooted up a little to lay on the pillow beside him. She cupped his face with one hand and then moved it slowly against his jawline, back and forth, the way she knew calmed him down whenever he was feeling restless.

He nodded at her answer, feeling a little hurt, but that information was not surprising. He just wanted to believe in the impossibility of his son having actual memories of his father in a way.

“But, if it makes you feel better,” she continued, “I talked to him about you all the time. He even started making these squealing noises whenever I mentioned the word ‘daddy’ to him.” She smiled at the memory and Mulder couldn’t help but smile, too. “I almost cried the first time he did that, actually. I missed you so much it hurt, and I just wanted to have you home with us. The fact that he acknowledged your existence was a comfort to me in many, many ways. It gave me hope.”

He saw her eyes were wet now, even in the semidarkness of the room. He only realized his own eyes were wet when she wiped a tear with her thumb from his cheek.

“I am sorry I wasn’t there for you when all hell broke loose. I wish I could tell him how sorry I am, too.”

She smiled weakly and brushed her lips against his in a chaste, lovely kiss.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, Mulder. I wish you would believe me.”

It was funny to him how he could believe basically anything in the world, but when the love of his life told him he was not guilty of any of the things he thought he caused her, he would become the most skeptic person to ever exist.

“Maybe one day I will.”

He kissed the palm of her hand that was still cupping his face.

She sighed contently.

“And maybe one day you’ll have the chance of telling him everything you want to tell him.” She sook her head a little. “No, not maybe. I am sure you will.”

He watched as she tried to suppress a yawn and nodded, hopeful.

“Will you stay the night?”

He knew how she liked to sneak out in the middle of the night sometimes, so he had to ask. He needed assurance that she was softening up again, that she would consider coming back home one day.

She nodded.

“Only if you make me those delicious pancakes for breakfast.”

He chuckled softly.

“With your favorite syrup, I promise.”

She smiled and closed her eyes, as he watched her drift off to sleep slowly. Eventually he stood up and closed the drapes, smiling to himself as he looked outside one last time and saw the few stars lined up in a funny shape, almost as if they were also assuring him everything was going to be alright. Maybe there was hope.

 


End file.
